Anisette

How swiftly thou canst dissipate all care,
Sweet Circe of liqueurs , when thou dost steal
Our fancies from us, and with subtle zeal
Make life more rosy-tinct and debonair.

There's merry madness hidden in the air,
Gay as the refrain of a Vaudeville,
When the sweet sorcery, thou canst ne'er conceal,
Lures us to gentle laughter everywhere.

Thy very name makes resurrect to me
The shadowy past of bygone student days;
The guignols , aye, the gay cafes, and lo,
The blooming fires of youth that used to be,
And kisses stolen in delicious ways,
Beneath the ancestral oaks of Fontainebleau!
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